Sunday, November 23, 2014

Poem: Weary



















Twists and turns,
blind alleys and dead ends,
sharp corners into
moving, unknown waters,
sleeping, working, resting.

I am always coming from
or going to someplace,
dragging a suitcase,
driving, sitting, thinking.

I crave a fireplace
and a good book on
a snowy afternoon,
with someone else
in the room,
humming.


1 comment:

Kathryn said...

I know the feeling. I only travel about once a month for business, but with that plus family visits, it seems like I never get the chance to unwind for a day. Or to really tackle the projects around the house that I've been meaning to get to for over a year, now. It's building up on me and the stress is showing in some bad insomnia. There are restorative hours, here, but not days.